


Make Your Way (Back to Me)

by StolenChilde



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depressed Castiel, Fluff and Angst, Language, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 13:44:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StolenChilde/pseuds/StolenChilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel makes the slow crawl back to family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Your Way (Back to Me)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this was written after my Coda. So a bit of a similar situation but not by any means part of the same fic. Just a different take. This was also written before I saw 9.02 and the preview for 9.03, but I tell you: I think we need something like this after that preview. Also! I’m avoiding spoilers this year as much as I can, so if you chose to comment please don’t reveal anything beyond the latest preview/episode. Thanks guys! Hope you enjoy! I’m honestly kind of proud of this one.

**Make Your Way (Back to Me)**

Castiel wasn’t proud of it, but he had managed to find a few coins sitting amongst the laundry he had rifled through and pilfered. They jangled in his pocket, a little under five dollars’ worth but he was being cautious with it. He thankfully managed to find a payphone at a gas station after hitching into the city. It was surprising how many friendly drivers there were willing to pick up a hitchhiker but how few were willing to loan out their phones, not to mention how few payphones there were around.

Castiel closed his eyes, exhaustion weighing heavily on him. Another bottle of water was calling his name as well as a protein bar if he could afford it but he had to make this call first.

He walked into the fogged from age, Plexiglas booth and deposited fifty cents of his precious coins into the slot. His hand quivered as he dialed a number long ago memorized and thankfully never forgotten. The phone was answered after one ring.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was hopeful and Castiel couldn’t help but smile.

He leaned his heavy body against the glass box and answered, “Hello Dean.”

“Jesus, Man, it’s been three fucking days. Where the hell have you been?”

“How’s Sam?” Castiel asked instead of replying.

Ah…” If Castiel was hearing correctly Dean sounded nervous as he continued, “He woke up. Your buddy Zeke managed to help.”

“Is Sam healed?”

“Ezekiel helped,” was all Dean provided. “Now, where the hell are you, Dude?”

“Wichita. I made it to Wichita. I tried to get closer but not many people head to Lebanon.”

“No, the ass crack of America isn’t much to see. Geographic centre of the contiguous Lower Forty-Eight ain’t exactly the tourist draw they’d hoped it be. Shit. Wichita. It’ll take me about three hours to get to you, Man. You can’t get any closer? I kinda got a bunker situation going on here. A twitchy teenage prophet and a wobbly brother ain’t exactly the best bodyguards to be leaving with the King of Hell – Neutered or not.”

“Dean what are you talking about?” Castiel asked.

“Oh yeah. Ah… long story. Look. Hang tight. I’m gonna see if I can get Charlie to swing over from Topeka to stay with the trauma cases here. Topeka ain’t no closer than Wichita but if I give her an hour and a half that’s one less ninety minutes I have to worry.”

“Who is this ‘Charlie’ is he trust-worthy?” Castiel asked seriously, his anxiety spiking. “Dean I can always—”

“Woah, you are outta the loop. Okay. Charlie is a chick and I’d trust her with my life _and_ Sam’s. Just find a coffee shop or diner to hole up in for four hours or so and I’ll be there.”

Castiel grimaced. Coffee shops and diners (as he discovered) cost money if you wished to sit in one to get out of the chill of the night until your next ride came along. Money that Castiel was getting very low on. But maybe he could afford coffee and some French Fries. Water was thankfully free.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Castiel answered evasively. The air was fairly warm and his sweatshirt and jacket kept most of the chill out if the wind decided to change. It would be night soon however. The sunset was creeping ever closer. He would find a park until the last moment then make his way to a diner. There was one down the street slightly that looked similar to the places that Dean and Sam tended to favour. It would – with luck – be relatively inexpensive.

“Where are you exactly?” Dean asked.

Castiel rattled off the address and then squinted into the distance. He gave the name of the diner he’d be in when Dean arrived. Business done, he was still hesitant to hang up the phone.

“Cas?” Dean asked his voice laced with concern.

“I… I’ll see you soon,” the words were stilted and awkward but _felt_ like the right thing to say despite that.

“Yeah Cas, hang in there.”

Dean hung up without a goodbye and Castiel hadn’t expected one. He stood listening to the dial tone for a few seconds longer and hoped the next four and a half hours would go by quickly. Time however, was a fickle thing when you were human. This too, Castiel had discovered. There was either too much or too little of it and Castiel was very, very tired.

He finally hung up the handset and stumbled out of the booth. He managed to make his shaky way down the street where there was a small park. It looked clean enough and had a tiny man-made pond in the centre of it. There was a playground on one end and a patch of green space on the other. A dirt and gravel path wound around the lake and Castiel navigated around to the side away from the playground. He had also discovered that a single man sitting and staring at children was not a welcome sight in public parks. A stiff wooden bench sat along the path next to a spindly tree and Castiel lowered himself down on it. It wasn’t made for sitting for long periods of time, that was easy enough to feel in the blunt wood construction but it was one of the most comfortable things he had experienced in a long time.

xx

Castiel jolted awake to the sound of a shriek. He leapt immediately to his feet, ready to confront and fight despite his weakness. Old habits die hard. However, the shriek was immediately followed by a feminine giggle and a male chortle and Castiel relaxed. As soon as he did, he immediately began shivering, noticing how cold he was and that the sky above his head was dark. He panicked. He didn’t have a watch and no way to tell time. The moon was obscured by the cloud cover and would offer no solutions. Hunching in on himself, he trudged out of the park and back towards the street, his heart hammering in his chest and his head swimming dizzily. He hadn’t eaten anything in a day and a half and even then, it had only been a protein bar purchased during a few hours waiting for a kind stranger to take him further up the road. He didn’t know much about _being_ human but he knew enough about human physiology to recognize that had not been nearly substantial enough for a vessel this size – his body. Castiel swallowed, wrapping his mind around that. His realisation of his still new condition kept on hitting him in waves.

Castiel heard the rumble of an engine drifting over from the road and it jolted him out of his thoughts. It hadn’t been the Impala, but it did remind him of his predicament. He tried to double his pace, fearing it was later than he thought and that Dean had gotten tired of waiting. With no way to contact Cas, he took off back to Lebanon and his brother. The thought made a strange, wet, burning sensation spring to Castiel’s eyes and with minor awe he realised the feeling was the damp sting of frustrated tears. He blinked rapidly and they cleared, calming faster when the diner sign came into his vision.

Castiel hurried across the street, careful to look both ways before he crossed having learned that lesson the hard way and pulled open the glass door. A brass bell rang over Castiel’s head bright and cheery and the comforting warmth and delicious smell of greasy food reached his nose. His stomach rumbled pathetically and ached, feeling nauseated with how empty it was as he sat carefully at a booth near the window. He looked around for a clock and nearly sagged in relief when he saw it wasn’t nearly as late as he feared. The overcast sky had only made it seem darker than it was. Dean was due to arrive in little more than a half hour and Castiel’s eyes stung again. This time it must have been relief. He blinked rapidly once more, the strategy having worked the first time and the pressure at the corners of his eyes eased.

A matronly woman came over with a wide grin. “What can I get you, Hon? Looks like you need something hearty.”

“Ah… Just coffee and a water for now please. A friend is meeting me here,” Castiel said hurriedly. The plate of French Fries, much to his dismay was far more money than he had expected.

The waitress looked skeptical but she pursed her lips and nodded. She came over with his coffee and water a few minutes later as well as a second menu. She left it close to the edge of the table, however, as if she expected it not to be used. Castiel wondered briefly just how bad he looked. He hadn’t had many opportunities to gaze at himself in the mirror. It was then his bladder reminded him with sharp clarity that he hadn’t emptied it in far too long.

Castiel was hesitant to leave his booth, not because he feared missing Dean (one of Dean’s finer traits was that he was always punctual when a friend was in need) but he feared the distrusting waitress would assume (correctly) that he couldn’t in fact afford anything and opted to leave. His bladder would not be denied and his right leg had begun jiggling of its own accord in some subconscious measure to relieve the pressure. He got up and hurried across the floor to the back. If he was quick, maybe the waitress wouldn’t notice he was gone.

Castiel entered the bathroom and baulked when he caught sight of his reflection in the large mirror above the sinks. His perpetual stubble had grown longer and thicker. It was not quite a full beard as of yet but was only a day or two away from it. His eyes looked stark blue above the deep purple, bruise like circles under his eyes. His hair was greasy and wild and the scrape along his cheek was a series of hard, dark scabs. He shook his head and hurried to relieve himself. He did take the time to wash his hands thoroughly before rushing back out of the washroom. He approached his table with trepidation expecting to see his coffee and water cleared away but was pleasantly surprised to discover it hadn’t been touched.

He made his way over and nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a familiar rough voice call out his name, “Cas! Thank god, Dude. It _is_ you.”

Dean had been sitting on one of the barstools along the counter, coffee on the Formica in front of him. He was standing now and staring at Cas and Castiel felt that absurd burn rise to the surface again, this time though when he blinked the liquid blur didn’t clear but grew until he felt a trickle run down his cheek.

“Dean,” Castiel rasped.

“Man, is it good to see you,” Dean looked like he was about to pull Castiel into an embrace and it was absurd how much Castiel craved that simple touch but instead Dean seemed to change his mind and brought one gentle finger to the scab on Castiel’s cheek. He touched it lightly much like he had touched Castiel’s chin what seemed like eons ago in Purgatory and commented on his ‘peach fuzz.’

“Wow,” Dean said softly.

Dean wasn’t really better off, Castiel noticed. He had the yellow-green of an old bruise around his eye and along his cheek bone and a scab on his lip that was going white at the edges. Unwittingly Castiel’s brought his hand up and brushed a thumb, feather light along that scab.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Castiel said softly.

“Cas, it’s nothing,” Dean shrugged it off. “Now where are you sitting? I asked the lady behind the counter if a scruffy guy in a trench coat had been in here but she told me the only scruffy guy was sitting over there,” Dean nodded at Castiel’s booth, “but he hadn’t been wearing a trench coat. I didn’t want to run the risk of pissing some poor bastard off so I grabbed a seat at the counter.” It was a blatant avoidance tactic and subject change but Castiel chose not to address it. He didn’t want to discuss his failings any more than Dean did.

“You’re early,” Castiel observed looking back at the clock. “Shouldn’t we be heading back to Kevin Tran and Sam?”

Dean shrugged. “I decided not to wait on Charlie, she'll get there. Sam and Kev will be fine for a little while longer. Right now I think the most important thing to do is get you fed.”

Castiel’s stomach tightened painfully again at those words, sending another spike of nausea though him. Castiel pointed to the booth Dean had indicated earlier and Dean picked up his coffee, following Castiel to it.

“Well I’ll be damned,” the waitress muttered not even bothering to hide her bemusement at seeing Castiel had been telling the truth. “What can I get you boys?”

Dean skimmed the menu quickly and ordered before Castiel could manage. Dean ordered steak and eggs with a side of fruit and bacon for Castiel and a burger and fries for himself.

“Eat what you can,” Dean murmured leaning in to Cas. “That’s the most protein heavy thing on here and you need it, Dude. We’ll wrap what you don’t finish and you can nibble at it on the way home.”

Castiel felt like denying there would be any left to wrap but he didn’t. Instead, his mind stopped at the casually uttered ‘home.’ Not ‘my home’ or ‘the bunker’ but a simple ‘home.’ The easily spoken phrase carried so much _meaning_ to Castiel that he could only nod mutely.

It turned out that Castiel hardly managed to get through a third of his meal but he was sure that he had consumed at least a small amount of everything. The home fried potatoes were a particular favourite but Dean had glared him into eating more of the meat and finishing the fruit. Castiel had also made it through three glasses of water. His coffee, long gone cold had hardly been touched but he pushed it away after one half-hearted sip and leaned back against the burgundy vinyl of the booth. His stomach felt full to bursting. Dean just smiled gently and got up to pay. He came back with a Styrofoam container and packed Castiel’s meal for him.

“Ready?”

“More than you know,” Castiel answered earnestly. He could feel the phantom pressure of the leather seats of the Impala against his back and legs and couldn’t wait to sink into the feel and smell of the familiar confines. He hadn’t ridden in the Impala too often by any means but regardless the presence of the much-loved car was firmly etched in his mind.

When they did reach the Impala, Castiel was confused as Dean placed the take-away container on the roof of the vehicle, expecting the green-eyed hunter to open the door instead then hand Castiel the container before heading over to the driver’s side. Castiel’s confusion was quickly replaced with surprise when he found himself pushed bodily back against the Impala Dean’s lips firm and soft against his own. Castiel gasped and Dean’s tongue snuck into the startled open cavern. Castiel immediately felt dizzy again, but this time pleasantly so as he felt the hard, black metal of the Impala against his back and Dean’s body was a warm solid line against his front. Castiel was hot and flushed and could feel his pulse racing chaotically in his neck as his heart pounded, Dean pressed closer and unforgiving, his hand heavy with pressure on Castiel’s hips.

Castiel groaned softly, the sound tripping from his throat as finally his blanked out brain kicked back into gear and he wrapped his arms around Dean’s back, fisting at Dean’s jacket as he pressed and kissed back. Eventually though, he realised that breathing was something he in fact had to focus on and reluctantly moved away from Dean’s all too tempting mouth, slight taste of iron from his healing split lip and all.

“Dean,” Castiel whispered, he knew his voice then would be described as wrecked and gravel rough and Dean merely leaned forward, forehead pressed to Castiel’s as he panted softly against Castiel’s lips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that again,” Dean murmured. “God, Cas. I missed you. So much. Need you so much right now. When Sam was lying in that hospital all I could think beyond wanting him better was wanting you there with me. When I found out those angels were after you and when you refused to head back to the bunker? My heart stopped, Man. Fuck.”

“Dean, I’m sorry I couldn’t have helped to heal Sam.”

Dean reared away at that and the dark fury on Dean’s face set a spike of anxiety through Castiel’s stomach.

“That’s not what I meant, you bastard,” Dean hissed. “It was _you_ I needed, Cas. Not your power. I just needed you with me. Does my saying that shit in that crypt all those weeks ago mean nothing?”

Castiel’s eyes widened. On some level, he had always hoped when Dean said those things they were more than just words; held more weight than just needing Castiel the angel. Even despite their past intimacies through their years of friendship and more than friendship and even enmity – especially the latter – Castiel didn’t think it ever meant more than mutual gratification when it came to the acts outside the standard realms of friendship. He had hoped, yes, but never fully allowed himself to believe, especially not in the recent years. Maybe, perhaps, when he was first falling, before Lucifer was defeated but afterwards? Castiel swallowed.

“Dean, I—”

“Don’t say anything Cas. Just tell me you get it, okay? Tell me you understand.”

Neither of them was ever very good with words, so instead, Castiel lunged forward and pressed his mouth against Dean's, grasping him all the more tightly and trying to put every wish, desire and emotion he ever felt into the gesture. This time, it was Dean who let out a gentle little noise halfway between a moan and a hitch of his breath and pushed Castiel back against the car again. The heat was growing between them, and Castiel was fervently wishing they were somewhere private and horizontal when a loud whistle and catcall wrenched them out of their embrace.

Dean blinked dazedly. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

“We really need to be home now,” Castiel said seriously, voice low. He said it just to taste the word on his tongue and felt his heart soar at the grin Dean gave. Dean nodded, opened the door of the Impala and held it for Castiel. Castiel, feeling shaky for a different reason this time reached up and took his take-out container before settling into the car’s comforting embrace. The heavy steel shut beside him and the car dipped with Dean’s weight as he climbed in the driver’s side. The engine came to life with a growl and Dean cranked up the radio as he headed out onto the highway to Lebanon.

Castiel wondered just how fast the three hours’ worth of miles would be eaten up under the Impala’s wheels as the headed home.

**End**


End file.
